Sermons

God's

quot;The
people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in the
land of deep darkness, upon them has the light shined." These words were
first spoken by the prophet Isaiah to announce the arrival of a new king in Judah, a new power on the throne in Jerusalem, a new administration and governance bringing a
profound transformation and great joy.1
The announcement was made at the darkest of times--war and its privation, its
brutality to spirit as well as body, and the culture of fear and political
oppression war generates. Into that darkness, new light has shined, the light
of the one named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of
Peace. The rod of the oppressors has been broken as well as all of their
instruments of terror. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

The
poem first emerged on Isaiah's lips as a prophetic word to a besieged and weary
Jerusalem some twenty-eight hundred years ago. But over time, through other
wars and occupations, the power of the words came to speak of a greater reign:
a divinely appointed, sent and sustained monarch whose eternal reign of
righteousness and justice would produce mercy and unending peace. This is Israel's expectation; it frames the well-known story we have just heard read.

A
couple makes their way back to the husband's ancestral home, Bethlehem, the
City of King David, because of the command of another king; the sovereign of
the empire has demanded a census. It is a hard trip because the young wife is
nine months pregnant and soon to deliver. Unable to secure a room, they find
shelter in a grotto housing a family's animals. While there, Mary gives birth
to her child--her firstborn--swaddles him in bands of cloth and places him in a
manger. That's all Luke tells us. It is astonishingly simple, given the
elaborate detail Luke has given us up until this moment. It is the other
characters in the story--the supporting actors if you will: the Emperor, the
shepherds and the angels who appear to them--who tell us the meaning of this
birth. It is Luke's artistic way of answering the expectant question: Is this
the long-awaited one Isaiah promised some seven hundred years earlier?

What
does Luke say? The decree when out from Augustus, Sovereign of what Luke calls "all
the world."2
Augustus had put an end to the civil strife that had dominated the Roman world
of his day, ushering in the Pax Augusta. In the eastern part of his
empire, Caesar Augustus was hailed as "savior" and "god." One
Greek inscription named him "savior of the whole world."3
Luke is linking this birth not only to Israel's expectations, but also to its
history. Rome and Bethlehem are connected by the one who created them both, the
one who is sovereign over all sovereigns, the one who is coming to birth in
this story, the one who is the true bringer of peace--the true "savior of
the whole world." Yet, he has entered the world as every king enters it--a
vulnerable infant--tightly wrapped in strips of cloth to keep him secure, safe
and warm, and placed for safety's sake on a bed of straw in a cattle crib, so
that his exhausted parents can rest in the obscurity of their nameless, unknown
surrounding.

They
will not be obscure for long. Enter the shepherds of Bethlehem, not far away in
the hill country, doing what their famous ancestor David did before God called
him from Bethlehem to be king. But there is more going on here than linking the
shepherds with King David. Luke wants us to know of that connection. But he has
another concern as well. Shepherds were among the lowest of the low: disreputable,
considered dishonest, and treated both socially and religiously as almost
non-persons4--nobodies--easily
the last people to whom an angel of the Lord would appear to make an
announcement ringing with echoes of Isaiah's prophecy. Yet, God's favor on the
least of these will be a continuing theme throughout Luke's gospel, a theme
woven into the fabric of the Bible itself. Moses the murderer was least likely
to be the lawgiver, David, the least of his brothers, was least likely to be
king, Mary, Jesus' mother--who was she?--and thus Mary's son, least likely to
be the coming one. But God works through the least likely, shows favor upon
them, and they find their lives being caught up in the drama of God's grace,
just as the nameless shepherds of Bethlehem will be forever remembered as the
first to hear the astounding news. "Do not be afraid; I bring you good
news of great joy for all people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord."5

So
much is packed into the angel's announcement. Do not be afraid. The darkness of
life is being pierced by the light of God, and it is being announced, not to
Caesars and senators, potentates and princes, priests and prophets, but to
nobodies, to those of low or no estate. Be not afraid--it is not only good news
of great joy, it is for all people, not just the shepherds, not
just the people of Judah, not just Rome and its many conquered lands, not just
those who will come to call themselves Christian. This is good news of great
joy for all people. The three titles that follow are astonishing: Savior,
Messiah, Lord. Savior was the title Augustus had incorrectly borne, but now the
Savior of the world is also Israel's long awaited Messiah, God's holy and
anointed one, long-announced by Isaiah. But more, this child is none other than
the Lord in human flesh. Four times the word "Lord" appears in this
story and, in each of the other three instances, it is a direct reference to
God.6
Luke has not used it accidentally this fourth time in reference to Jesus. He
wants us to know that this is none other than the gift of God's self in and
through the one who will be called God's son. "Veiled in flesh the godhead
see, Hail the incarnate deity," sings the carol.7

No
wonder the sky explodes with angelic presence and doxological song praising
God. God's reign of everlasting justice and righteousness, God's gift of peace
on earth among those whom God favors has begun. In this child, God's grand
design for the redemption of the world is unfolding.

The
shepherds respond in a very unshepherdly way: they abandon their sheep to go
look for the sign the angel gave them. But who wouldn't in their place? If told
the savior of the world was just over the hill in the form of a child wrapped
in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, wouldn't you get up and go see for
yourselves as fast as your legs would carry you, sheep or no sheep? The
shepherds are not unlike others who will appear in this gospel: fishermen who
abandon their nets and boats, tax collectors who leave their lucrative source
of income behind, lepers who risk a crowd, desperate parents with dying
children, a hemorrhaging woman who reaches out to touch the hem of his garment,
each responding to the presence of God among them. Every nobody needs good
news.

The
shepherds find Mary, Joseph and the babe just as the angel said, and tell the
new parents what the angel had said about their newborn son. But their telling
does not stop there. They tell any who will listen. And all are amazed. And why
not; is there any less reason for amazement this night? Mary takes it all in,
placing it alongside the earlier visit of another angel and, looking at her
son, treasures yet wonders what this will mean. And the shepherds, what did
they do? The sheep--they had forgotten the sheep. So back to their fields and
flocks they go. But the darkness is not as dark as it was. It has been pierced
with divine light. The "no" of being a nobody is no longer as
damning, confining or condemning; they have seen God's "Yes." They
have experienced God's favor; they have looked into the face of a sleeping
infant and seen God's promised savior. They and their world will never be the
same. No matter how dark their night might become, they have seen God's light. They
have heard God's "Yes," in their world of "No."

What
have you seen and heard?

Oh
holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in,
be born in us this day. We hear the Christmas angels their great glad tidings
tell. Oh come to us, abide with us, O Lord, Emmanuel.

Most likely, Hezekiah in 727 BCE.

Commentaries are filled with discussions about the absence of any record of
such a census demanded by Augustus. Has Luke misplaced the census that came
later, after Archelaus was deposed as ruler of Judea, or is Luke making a
larger point: that as God used Cyrus, king of Persia, to free the Jews from the
bondage of Babylon, so God was using Augustus to effect divine purpose? Cf.
Fred B. Craddock, Preaching Through the Christian Year, Year B, (Valley
Forge, PA: Trinity International Press, 1993), p. 32.